


Bite Harder

by Crystalwren



Category: Hellsing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-11
Updated: 2006-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-22 00:53:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystalwren/pseuds/Crystalwren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amorality, manipulation, and alcohol.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bite Harder

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Укус](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10738107) by [Rendomski](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rendomski/pseuds/Rendomski)



It was late. The moon shone through the opened curtains, coating everything in liquid silver. The moonlight became Walter. In any other light he was a beautiful young man, beautiful and unsettling with violence in his eyes, but the moon softened his features, soothed the predator and under it was Ganymede instead of Apollo.

Arthur took another sip of his drink. The neat whiskey burned down his throat and made his eyes water. He wanted ice but there was no way he was going to ring for some. The servants were used to being turned out of their beds at all hours, used to cleaning all sorts of strange messes so Arthur was not concerned about their beauty sleep. He was more concerned about them coming in here and seeing…well, yes. Fuck.

He reached for the whiskey decanter, poured himself another before settling back into his leather chair. The dressing gown and worn slippers were not attractive but they were warm. There was a distinct chill in the air, so he had deliberately left Walter uncovered in the malicious hope that the little git would catch a cold. It was highly unlikely as the boy was generally impervious to heat or cold as a stone elephant but it was worth trying. Nothing ventured and all that.

Scratching at the patch of hair on his chest, Arthur contemplated the handsome young man, the butler asleep in his master’s bed. On the table was the little bottle of oil that Walter had so helpfully produced from his pocket, on the carpet was a litter of used tissues. To an observer, sex was by no means a certainty but it was definitely implied. Arthur was ten years older than Walter and the boy had been killing for almost as long. He tried to convince himself that Walter’s nonexistent childhood made his chronological age of seventeen irrelevant. It wasn’t working. The nagging feeling of guilt kept nagging and Arthur’s miraculous ability to get it up no matter how drunk he happened to be was beginning to look like a liability as opposed to a great source of masculine pride. Rational Thought wasn’t happy. It kept trying to hide…

Ganymede stirred, reached out and flicked the lamp on. Arthur flinched and his eyes began to water.

“What time is it?”

“About two or three o’clock,” said Arthur. Walter leant over the edge of the bed and ratted through the pile of clothing on the floor until he found his cigarettes. “That’s a very bad habit.”

Walter grinned. “Tell you what: I’ll quit smoking when you quit drinking.”

“Get fucked,” said Arthur automatically.

The butler smirked around his cigarette. He stretched provocatively on the bed. He was as naked as the day he was born, flawless except for old scars. “Care to volunteer?”

“Goddamit!” The whiskey glass went sailing across the room and Arthur lunged for Walter’s throat. The boy didn’t bother trying to dodge. Arthur landed on the mattress with a thump, his hands around Walter’s neck.

“Hey, my cig!”

Cursing, Arthur swiped at the smouldering sheets while Walter snaked his arms around Arthur’s waist and stuck his tongue in his ear.

“Will you cut it out?” He rolled off Walter, but the boy rolled with him, set his knees just so and dropped his weight and pinned Arthur before the Hellsing Director even knew what was happening. “You amoral, manipulative little shit. You got me drunk.”

“No,” disagreed Walter affably, “you got yourself dunk. I just encouraged you a little.” He rocked his hips and Arthur shuddered as the satin lining of his dressing gown slipped against his penis in a disturbingly pleasurable manner.

“Oh god,” and Walter bent down and pressed a slow kiss against Arthur’s unresponsive lips.

“Don’t you want to?”

“No!”

“All right, then.” With freakish flexibility he pressed the heel of his foot against Arthur’s throat while he lent over the side of the bed for his cigarette packet. He straddled Arthur’s waist as he lit another. “You’re angry with me. Why?”

“I am not in the habit of having sex with boys under my care.”

“That wasn’t sex,” said Walter.

“I’m sorry,” replied Arthur in withering tones, “I appear to have neglected certain vital areas of your education. What we did some hours earlier is usually called ‘sex’. There are any number of colloquial words for this act: fucking, shagging, rooting…”

“It didn’t go in so it wasn’t sex.”

“What would you call it then?”

“Mutual masturbation.” He took the cigarette out of his mouth and swiped the tip of his pink tongue across Arthur’s lower lip. “Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. It wasn’t all bad. You were the one who ripped my shirt off.”

“You were the one who kissed me!”

“I don’t see what you’re getting all upset about. I know you’ve done it with Islands, so it’s not like I’ve violated the precious sanctity of your heterosexuality.”

“I was just a kid!” protested Arthur, “anyway, who told you about that?”

“Islands.” Walter shrugged. “Who else?”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Don’t be too upset about it. I slipped him some hashish smokes. He never even realised the difference. He was incredibly upset afterwards. Kept fondling his gun and calling himself a monster.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Arthur snapped. “Islands hasn’t smoked…for…years…Walter, you didn’t!”

“Sorry boss,” said Walter cheerfully, “I did,” and he slipped his hand inside Arthur’s dressing gown to deliver a hard pinch to a defenceless nipple.

“How old were you?”

“Thirteen? Fourteen? I forget exactly.”

Arthur shut his eyes miserably. “Get off me. Please.”

Walter shrugged and did as he was told. Arthur staggered towards the whiskey, propelled by a powerful thirst. He didn’t bother with a glass this time, just swigged straight from the decanter. The butler sat on the edge of the bed and dangled his legs, giving a fantastic view of his package.

“For God’s sake, put it away before you poke someone’s eye out!”

Walter scowled. “Haven’t you had enough of that?” He licked thumb and forefinger and pressed the end of the cigarette between them before flicking the stub away. He stalked over to Arthur and pried the decanter out of his hand, setting it down on the table with a clink. “I’m sorry, I’m confused. Are you saying that at thirteen I was old enough to go out and fight and kill for my country, but I wasn’t old enough to anything else? Sir Hellsing, please spare me your blinding hypocrisy.” Gripping Arthur firmly by one ear, he pressed their lips together and slipped in his tongue at the same time he slipped his hand into Arthur’s dressing gown and squeezed. Arthur whimpered and felt his knees buckle. A hard push made him fall into the armchair. Walter knelt and took Arthur’s penis in hand. Closed his mouth gently over the head and wiggled his tongue into the little hole as Arthur made a noise best described as a whine.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked plaintively, when he got his breath back. “I honestly thought you liked girls.”

“I do,” replied Walter. “I like them too much,” and he bit down hard on Arthur’s inner thigh, “wanking by yourself isn’t much fun, so I do it with men.”

“What’s wrong with liking girls too much?” gasped Arthur as his growing erection was manipulated by an expert.

“If I did it with them I don’t think I would be able to stop. I’d do it for real. I want to be a virgin for my wedding night, see?”

At the words ‘virgin’ and ‘wedding night’, Arthur’s Rational Thought, already bruised and bleeding, screamed hysterically and threw itself out of his left ear. It bounced off his shoulder and rolled under the bed. “Get back here, you coward!”

“Arthur? It’s gone soft.”

“Eh?”

“Soft,” hissed Walter, running his tongue from the tip to the base. “Really, I feel almost insulted.”

“I’m sorry,” said Arthur dreamily, “I thought I heard you say that you wanted to get married.”

“Well, yes. One day.”

“Right.” He blinked. “Sorry. Didn’t pick you as the marrying type.”

“I am a Christian, remember.”

Arthur wisely decided that pointing out the obvious flaws in that statement probably wasn’t the best idea while the butler’ teeth were in such close proximity to his penis. He groaned as Walter undid the dressing gown and began to lick his nipples. Without thinking about it he found himself wrapping his hand around the back of Walter’s neck, pressing the boy closer. “Oooooh God. Oh God.”

“It’s a sin to blasphemy,” said Walter smugly, his voice muffled against Arthur’s chest. “Personally, I don’t like this when it’s done to me. I don’t really like people touching mine at all, but I seem to be in the minority there,” and very gently, he bit down. “Arthur. It’s hard again,” and he groped between Arthur’s legs and cupped his balls and squeezed. “Come on. Come back to bed with me.”

He stood up and took Arthur by the hand, pulling until the older man stood up and followed. Walter lay down on the bed and Arthur fell across him. “I’m going to regret this tomorrow.”

“Shut up, old man.” They kissed, hard, teeth clicking together. Walter groaned and wrapped his arms around Arthur’s shoulders. “No fun,” he gasped, “doing it with someone I don’t like. Do you realise that you’re the only human being alive that I give a flying fuck about?”

“Shut up, Dornez,” and Arthur scrabbled for the bottle of oil on the bedside table.

“Leave it! We can do without.”

“I told you to shut up.” He pried himself off the boy and slathered a liberal about of oil where it was needed most. He dropped his weight and began to grind.

“Uh. That’s…that’s very nice. Can…can you do something for me?”

“What?” growled Arthur as he licked the boy’s ear.

“Bite me. Bite my neck.”

“Bite you?” he purred. “Like this?” a little nip under the ear.

“No. Harder.”

Nip. “This better?”

“Harder! For fuck’s sake, harder!”

Arthur bit down hard.

“Oooooh yessss!” and Walter came, bucking and shuddering. Arthur propped himself up on his hands and watched. He contemplated making various acid remarks about Nabokov and dirty young boys and dirtier old men but he didn’t.

Instead he said, “Are you done?” when Walter finally stopped twitching. The boy opened his eyes and nodded blissfully. “Good.” Arthur rolled off, onto his back. “Now it’s my turn. Suck it.”

The butler grinned. “It’s my duty to serve my master,” and as he did, Arthur watched the little pinprick scars on the boy’s neck and thought that they explained a lot.

END


End file.
